Babies, Horse Power and Quotation Marks

Posted by: , March 22, 2010 in 11:20 am


outnumbered Babies, Horse Power and Quotation MarksMy baby girl is growing up.  I can’t believe it.

It seems like it was only yesterday that she was shitting in the bath tub, eating chalk and falling down the stairs. It all happens so fast, I tell ya.

Some Dads get a bit timid when it comes to dealing with their daughter’s progression. I personally don’t see the problem. Every time my little princess says something that indicates she’s advancing on to the next level, it makes me smile. It’s like watching someone break the high score on Ms Pac-Man. Did you know there are 256 levels on Ms Pac-Man?

There are way more levels in life.

Anyway, instead of getting sentimental and teary eyed when my baby shows signs of growing up, it gets me charged. For instance, the other day I picked my family up from the airport. We were all in the car and she asked me…

“Dad, how was your *quotation marks* man weekend O fun?”

Aside from her making my weekend sound like a gay porn retreat, the question itself isn’t much of an indication of level advancement. But she actually utilized the finger “quotation marks” in the correct context.

That’s a huge leap right there.

Then the next morning when I was getting her ready for school, she turned to me while she was brushing her teeth and had this to tell me…

“When I was getting on the plane, I asked the Pilot how much horse power the plane has. He said it has about 50,000 horse power. That means you can fit 50,000 horses on the plane and it will still fly.”

OK so she doesn’t quite get the concept of horse power. But who the fuck does? I couldn’t explain it. I didn’t even try. The point is, she was curious enough to ask an airplane pilot an intelligent question on her own. That is really impressive to me.

I’m definitely torn.

I love my little angel as this intuitive, smart ass, little munchkin. Part of me wants to freeze her, like the head of Ted Williams and keep her safe in my basement. But the other part of me wants her to be 21 tomorrow, so we can go out for sushi, guzzle jugs of Sake and talk about the mysteries of life, until we can’t see straight anymore.

All in due time I suppose.

I’ll have to wait. I need to let her tackle all 256 levels on her own. Even if it means seeing her get eaten by some pink ghosts along the way.

It’s the right thing to do.

I know this because I couldn’t answer this question, from the car the other night…

“Daddy, how do you make a baby exactly?”

My gut instinct was to tell her the truth. That you need Vodka, Lenny Kravitz albums and Binaca. But I couldn’t… I didn’t want her to know the truth.

Not yet.

So I did the right thing.

I told her to ask her Mom.

Then her Mom did the right thing.

She told her that when two people cuddle and they love each other, they can make a baby.

And then my daughter said…

“Me and Daddy cuddle?”

Then we offered her Ice Cream and one of those new piece of crap, Zhu Zhu pet hamster things.

I think freezing her head is the right thing to do…

outnumbered


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